Chapter 57: The First Planting
Volume 1: The First Civilization
Chapter 57: The First Planting
The next morning arrived earlier than usual. Before the sun appeared above the mountains, several villagers were already awake.
The previous day’s work had left their bodies sore — hands covered with small cuts, shoulders aching from carrying stones. Yet nobody complained. Something had changed. For the first time, the villagers had a reason to return to the valley. They had prepared the land. Now they needed something to put into it.
---
Aren stood outside the storehouse. Elder Nara approached carrying a small woven basket, several bundles of dried plants inside. She set it on the ground.
"I separated them."
Aren crouched beside it. "All of them?"
"Only the healthiest seeds." She pointed toward several small bundles. "These came from the wild grass we found." Another bundle held berry seeds.
"And these?"
"Those are from the older bushes near the river."
Aren examined each group carefully. The seeds weren’t identical — some large, some small, some dark, others pale-shelled. He picked up one of the wild-grain seeds.
A faint pressure formed behind his eyes. Not pain this time. Something closer to recognition.
---
[Memory Synchronization: 39%]
Recovered Knowledge — Basic Seed Selection
A fragmented image appeared: hands sorting seeds across a wooden table, small seeds pushed aside, large healthy ones placed into separate containers. A voice spoke from somewhere within the memory.
*Strong seeds give strong plants.*
The image disappeared. Aren opened his eyes. Elder Nara was watching him.
"Did you remember something?"
He nodded. "Some of it." He picked up another seed. "We shouldn’t plant everything."
The old woman frowned. "Why?"
"Because some seeds are weak." He placed two side by side. "These are larger. And these are smaller."
Elder Nara studied them. "So we choose the larger ones?"
"Not only larger." Aren thought carefully. "Healthy. Undamaged. And from plants that survived well."
Elder Nara slowly smiled. "You want the strongest seeds."
"Yes."
---
Lira soon arrived with Elder Mira. She looked at the baskets. "Are those the seeds?"
Aren nodded. Lira crouched beside him. "How do we know which ones are strongest?"
He handed her two seeds. "Look closely."
She examined them — one cracked, the other smooth. "This one." She pointed at the smooth seed.
"Because it isn’t damaged?"
She nodded. "Good," Aren said, and gave her another pair. This time both looked healthy. Lira hesitated. "The bigger one?"
"Why?"
"Because..." She paused. "I don’t know."
Aren smiled. "That’s fine. Then we observe."
Lira looked at the seeds again. After a few seconds she noticed the difference. "This one is heavier."
"Exactly."
Mira watched from behind them, her eyes holding quiet approval. "Lira."
"Yes, Master?"
"Remember this. Medicine isn’t the only knowledge that requires patience."
Lira nodded. "Everything has to be observed before it can be understood."
Aren glanced at Mira. The old healer smiled faintly. "Perhaps I’m learning from you too."
---
By sunrise, more villagers had gathered. Chief Rokan stood in front of them, the prepared field waiting beyond the river. Today they would decide what to plant.
Aren held up the basket of selected seeds. "We only have a small amount."
A hunter frowned. "Then shouldn’t we plant all of them?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because we don’t know how they’ll grow." Aren pointed toward the field. "If we use every seed and something goes wrong, we lose everything."
The villagers went silent. Aren continued. "We divide them. Some will be planted. Some will be kept. And some will remain untouched."
Elder Nara understood immediately. "So we’ll have seeds for another attempt."
"Exactly."
Chief Rokan nodded. "That sounds safer."
Aren looked toward the field. "Farming is still something we don’t understand. We shouldn’t gamble everything on our first attempt."
---
The villagers carried the selected seeds toward the valley. The walk was quiet — everyone seemed to understand this was different from gathering. When they gathered berries, they took what nature had already produced. Today, they were asking the earth to produce something for them. That responsibility felt heavier.
---
When they reached the prepared field, Aren stopped. The dark soil stretched before them — yesterday they’d worked it until their hands hurt, and now it looked ready. But Aren wasn’t satisfied yet.
He crouched and pressed his fingers into the soil. Still slightly damp. Good. He looked toward the river — close enough for water. Toward the mountains — the field caught sunlight for most of the morning. Toward the forest — the nearby trees could shelter it from strong winds. Everything seemed suitable.
Aren stood. "We can begin."
---
Chief Rokan stepped forward. "What do we do first?"
Aren looked at the seeds. "We make small holes."
The villagers picked up their digging sticks. Aren demonstrated — not too deep, not too shallow, just enough for a seed to rest beneath the surface. One of the hunters copied him. "Like this?"
"Yes."
Soon dozens of small holes dotted the prepared field. The work was slow, but unlike yesterday, nobody rushed. They were learning every movement.
Bram quietly watched Aren, then made his own row, spacing the holes wider apart. Aren noticed. "Why are you spacing them like that?"
Bram looked surprised. "I thought — if they’re too close, they’ll have to fight for water."
Aren stared at him a moment, then smiled. "You’re right."
Bram’s eyes widened — it was the first time Aren had directly praised him. He returned to his work at once, but the small smile on his face was impossible to hide.
---
Lira worked on another section, carefully placing each seed into its hole. "Should we cover them completely?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Just enough."
She gently pushed soil over the seed. Aren watched. "Good."
Lira smiled. "You’re becoming very strict."
"I’m trying to make sure our first field survives."
"Then I’ll try not to disappoint you."
---
By late morning, the first row was complete. Then the second. Then the third. The villagers continued until the small field was covered with planted seeds.
There were no crops yet — no green leaves, no harvest. Only dark soil hiding dozens of tiny seeds beneath its surface. Yet everyone stood around the field in silence. They had done something their ancestors had never done. They had placed food into the earth, and chosen to wait.
Aren looked at the field. For the first time, the village wasn’t simply taking from nature. It had begun to cooperate with it.
A faint blue light appeared before his eyes.
[Agricultural Action Detected]
First Planting: Initiated
Development Progress Updated
Primitive Agriculture
Suitable Land: ✓
Soil Survey: ✓
Land Preparation: ✓
Seed Selection: ✓
First Planting: In Progress
Agriculture Development: 3% → 6%
Civilization Points: 92 → 95
Aren’s expression softened. The System had recognized their first planting. But another line appeared beneath it.
[Warning] First Crop Survival Rate Unknown — Required: Observation
Aren slowly smiled. Of course. They still had to learn. Planting was only the beginning.
He looked across the field. Tomorrow they would return, and wait for the first signs of life.
---
The villagers didn’t leave the field immediately. Even after the last seed had been covered, they remained standing around the dark soil — nobody wanted to be the first to walk away.
It was strange. They had planted only a small number of seeds. There was no guarantee anything would grow, no harvest waiting beneath the ground. Yet they looked at the field as if they had created something precious.
Doran crossed his arms. "So... when do we eat them?"
Several people laughed. Aren shook his head. "Not yet."
Doran sighed dramatically. "I knew you’d say that."
"The seeds need time."
"How much time?"
"I don’t know."
Doran stared at him. "You don’t know?"
Aren smiled. "Not everything."
The hunter scratched his head. "At least you’re honest."
---
Chief Rokan stepped forward. "We should protect the field."
"Yes."
"From animals?"
"Animals."
"Birds?"
"Birds."
"People?"
Aren looked toward the villagers. "Especially people who don’t understand what we’re doing."
A few laughed. Rokan raised his voice. "Then no one enters the field unless Aren or I give permission." The villagers nodded.
"We’ll build a simple fence," Rokan said.
Aren looked around the field. "Not too high."
"Why?"
"We still need to reach the plants easily. And if we make it too large, it’ll waste wood."
Rokan nodded. "Then we use short stakes."
---
Several hunters went back into the forest and returned with thin branches. The villagers placed them around the field and tied them together with vines. The fence was crude — anyone determined enough could probably climb over it. But that wasn’t its purpose. It was simply a reminder: something important was growing here.
---
Bram stood outside the fence, looking at the dark earth. "How will we know if something is wrong?"
"We observe."
"Every day?"
"Every morning."
Bram nodded seriously. "What should I look for?"
Aren thought a moment. "Cracks in the soil. Dry ground. Water collecting in one place. Animals entering. Anything unusual."
Bram repeated the list under his breath. Aren noticed. "You don’t need to memorize everything immediately."
Bram shook his head. "I want to."
Aren smiled. "Then learn."
---
Lira approached the fence. "Should we water them?"
Aren looked toward the sky — thin clouds covered the mountains. "No."
She looked surprised. "Why?"
"The soil is already damp. If we add too much water, the seeds could rot."
Lira nodded slowly. "So even helping can become harmful."
"Exactly."
Elder Mira, listening nearby, smiled. "That is an important lesson."
"Like medicine?" Lira asked.
Mira nodded. "Too little can be dangerous. Too much can be dangerous too."
Aren glanced at the old healer. Their lessons were beginning to overlap — medicine, agriculture, construction, even hunting. Everything required balance.
---
By afternoon, the villagers returned to the settlement. The field was left alone. For the first time since the project began, there was nothing more to do — no digging, no clearing, no gathering. They had to wait. And waiting was difficult.
---
That evening, Aren sat beside the central fire. Chief Rokan sat across from him, slowly turning a piece of meat over the flames.
"You know," Rokan said, "when you first came here, I thought you were strange."
Aren laughed softly. "Only strange?"
"Very strange." Rokan smiled. "You asked questions no one else asked. You looked at walls and saw weaknesses. You looked at food and saw waste. And now" — he glanced toward the valley — "you look at dirt and see a future."
Aren went quiet. "I don’t know if it will work."
"Neither do I." Rokan looked around the village. "But that’s why we’re trying."
Aren smiled. The old chief was beginning to understand — civilization wasn’t about knowing everything. It was about being willing to discover what you didn’t know.
---
Later that night, Aren returned to the storehouse. Elder Nara was still awake, sitting beside the inventory board with a small wooden marker in her hand.
"You should sleep."
"So should you." He smiled. "What are you doing?"
"Recording the seeds." She pointed toward a new section of the board: the number planted, the number kept in storage, the location of the field, the day they were planted.
Aren stared at it. "You recorded all that?"
"If we don’t record it, we might forget." She looked at him. "Your idea."
"No. Now it’s yours too."
Elder Nara chuckled. "Perhaps."
---
The next morning, Bram arrived at the field before everyone else. The sun had barely risen; mist still rested above the grass. He stood outside the wooden fence. Nothing had changed — the soil was still dark, no green leaves had appeared.
He crouched, checked the edges — no animal tracks, no broken fence, no standing water — and marked the observation board. Day One.Then he waited.
---
When Aren arrived later, he found Bram still there. "You came early."
"I wanted to check."
"Did you find anything?"
"No."
Aren smiled. "That’s still information."
Bram looked confused. "How?"
"Because now we know what the field looks like after one night."
Bram thought about it, then slowly smiled. "So even nothing happening can teach us."
"Exactly."
---
Throughout the day, more villagers visited. Some expected the seeds to have already sprouted; others laughed when they saw nothing.
Doran crouched beside the field. "Are you sure we didn’t bury them too deep?"
Aren shook his head. "We’ll know soon."
Doran sighed. "Waiting is harder than hunting."
Lira laughed. "At least the seeds aren’t running away."
"Give them time."
"They might."
Everyone laughed.
---
Three days passed. The villagers continued their normal work — hunters into the forest, builders repairing the palisade, gatherers collecting berries and roots, Mira and Lira preparing medicine, Nara recording food supplies. But every morning, someone checked the field.
The first day, nothing. The second, nothing. The third, still nothing. Some villagers began to lose confidence. Maybe the seeds were useless. Maybe the soil was wrong. Maybe they had made a mistake.
Aren remained calm. "We wait."
---
On the fourth morning, Bram reached the field before sunrise. He walked toward the first row. Then stopped. His eyes widened. For a moment he didn’t move.
A tiny green shoot had pushed through the soil. Then another. And another.
Bram spun around. "Aren!" His voice echoed across the valley. "Aren!"
Several villagers came running. "What happened?" "Is someone hurt?"
Bram pointed toward the field. "They grew!"
Everyone rushed forward. Lira covered her mouth. Elder Nara stared at the tiny green leaves. Chief Rokan slowly smiled. The field was alive.
Aren crouched beside the first seedling and gently touched the soil. A faint blue light appeared before him.
[Growth Detected]
First Crop Successfully Sprouted
Survival Rate: 71%
Agricultural Knowledge +1
Civilization Points:+ 50
Agriculture Development: 6% → 9%
Aren stared at the message. Then another line appeared.
The first harvest begins with a single green leaf.
Aren looked across the field. Only a few dozen seedlings had emerged — nowhere near enough to feed the village. But that wasn’t what mattered. They had proven something. The land could be cultivated. The village could produce food. They only needed to learn how.
Chief Rokan placed a hand on Aren’s shoulder. "You were right."
Aren shook his head. "No." He looked at the small plants. "We were."
The chief smiled. Behind them, the villagers continued celebrating. But Aren’s eyes stayed on the field.
The first seeds had sprouted. Now came the harder part — keeping them alive.
End of Chapter 57